


Thrice Bitten

by JantoJones



Series: Brief Briefings [59]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 22:51:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8596909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones





	

After receiving no answer to his knocking, Illya let himself into his partner's apartment. He knew Napoleon should have been there, as they had agreed to have breakfast at the apartment before heading to the airport. If there had been any change of plan, such as an unexpected date, Solo would have called him. Shouting out his presence, so as not to startle Napoleon, he began a search of the place.

Throughout the sitting room, and the kitchen, there were signs of Solo in stark evidence. This in itself was concerning. While he wasn't a fastidious man, Napoleon was tidy; especially when it came to clearing up after a meal. The coffee table was covered in various half eaten take-out cartons.

Illya continued his search and finally found his partner lying, in a sorry state, on the bathroom floor. From the mess in the toilet bowl, in the bath tub, and all over Napoleon himself, something from his evening meal had violently disagreed with him.

Squatting down, Illya gently roused Solo, making sure to stay far enough away from any defensive reaction the prone agent may have. He tried not to wince at the vivid purple bruise which had formed across Napoleon's forehead, which was no doubt from an accidental whack against the toilet. Slowly, Solo groaned into wakefulness, and sat himself up. He looked terribly gaunt and shaky.

"I should have known better that to go to the Rain Flower Gardens," he moaned, accepting Illya's assistance to get up from the floor.

"Rain Flower Gardens!" Illya scoffed. "Remind me how many times you've had food from there."

"Three," Napoleon told him. "As you already know."

"And how many times have you been ill as a result?" The Russian continued.

"Three," the American conceded. "But it tastes sublime."

"Luckily for you, our flight to Berlin was intentionally booked a day early," Illya commented as he pulled out his communicator. "You get yourself cleaned up and I'll go and get HQ to rebook our flights."

After Illya left the room, Napoleon took a long look at himself in the mirror. He frowned at the pale, sick looking man who stared back at him. On the plus side, a bruised face was usually good for a few sympathy dates, and there were several women in the Berlin office he wouldn't mind kissing him better.


End file.
